Page 106 of A Searing Acquaintance
“Fitzwilliam Darcy. Elizabeth calls him Will.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “Why on earth would you—?” Her eyes flickered over to Elizabeth, who had crossed her legs and smiled sweetly.
Elizabeth decided to be the bigger person and move on so she could get out of the Lexington Avenue lair. “We’re dating, and Fitzwilliam has too many syllables for a Jersey girl like me. Now, let’s talk strippers. Yes or no?”
“Hello, love.”
“Hi, sweetheart. Enjoying a Sunday in the park in…wait, where are you?”
“Berlin. Back to London first thing tomorrow, a quick meeting or two, and then home to you.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I can’t wait more.”
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
“Elizabeth?”
“Shoot, we have a bad connection. Let me go outside.”
Darcy lay back on the rock-hard mattress and stared at the ceiling. He had no idea what had possessed Sara to book him into such a brutally austere hotel, but at least his two nights there had finally provided him some dream-free sleep. Or perhaps exhaustion had simply set in. He certainly hadn’t enjoyed long stretches of REM sleep for the past month when he’d had Elizabeth beside him in bed, tempting and tickling and teasing him in the wee hours. Not that he’d prefer sleep.
Suddenly he heard muffled voices.Where is she?“Elizabeth?”
“Hi, I’m here. Outside in the fall gloom. Are you in bed?”
She sounded breathless, which he thought was rather sexy. When she asked him the second question, he realized the stark furnishings around him would not stifle the stirrings he was beginning to feel.
“Yes. On my bed of nails for the last night. Where are you? Who were you talking to?”
“Oh, I’m, um, in Queens. At the house. The backyard, technically.”
Darcy sat up. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, fine. Just taking a breather from the dust. I just…I’m cleaning out some things. Packing up some bedroom stuff for Jane and me.”
“Ah. Bedroom stuff.” He lay back down. “Are you stripping it bare? I’ll never get to see your childhood bedroom?”
She smiled. “Not bare. The stars will stick to the ceiling until the house falls down. And Mia Hamm is staying put. I’m just getting some books and our memory boxes and bagging up old clothes.”
“Memory boxes?” He’d still not seen a photo of Elizabeth as a child, and he often wondered what she had looked like as a tough but adorable little girl. Since their conversation last week, he’d spent far too much time thinking about the children they might have someday.
“Well, I thought you might want to see proof of that spelling bee medal, and I still have my rap princess leg warmers. And…” she added in a low voice, “I found my favorite bikini. Lydia had it.”
“God, Elizabeth. You’re talking dirty to me, and I’m four thousand miles away?”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll stop. The NSA might be listening. And it’s definitely not bikini weather here anyway.”
“How you make me suffer,” he groaned. “There’s still another”—he looked at the stainless steel clock hammered to the wall—“thirty-seven hours till I see you again.”
“I know.”
“And thirty-seven and a half hours until I have all your clothes off.”
“Will…”
“I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”
